Kara (10 page)

“Mistress, food!” Skrag came back jovial with
a bag that smelled of roast chicken.

Quick like a cat, Katrena grabbed the goblin
by the neck, hoisted him up, and drew her blade—positioned so he
could see and feel it.

“Where is the pendant?” No seduction or
sultriness colored her tone now. It rang with hard-edged anger.

“What….”

“Don’t play coy with me. The bat pendant.
Where is it?” She squeezed a little tighter.

“Human.” His voice came out barely audible.
This reply took her by surprise. Katrena’s grip slackened a bit,
and Skrag took in a deep breath.

“What?” Her grip tightened again, stronger
this time.

“Human girl.” He used his remaining breath on
the statement. Now he began fighting for air again, his hands pawed
at the fist holding him. Katrena dropped him on a nearby table.

“Excuse me, may I see…” A customer at the
entrance of the booth waved his hand to get Katrena’s
attention.

“We’re at lunch. Come again another time!”
The bugbear looked taken aback and then left quickly. Katrena
turned her eyes back on Skrag, who looked terrified.

“Okay Skrag, tell me in detail about it.”

Skrag told her about the incident. A smile
replaced her sneer.

“Customer normal. Lady. Wrapped up. Glove
took off. Hold pendant. Then Skrag see human. Like magic.” His
mistress’s smile widened a bit and his nervousness disappeared.

“But that still doesn’t answer my question
about the necklace. Where did the pendant go?”

“She startled. Ran away. With pendant, I
think.” Skrag shrank back from this, knowing how his mistress’s
wrath could be.

Her fist pounded the table next to Skrag. “So
close!”

The frightened goblin jumped up and ran
toward the end of the table. Katrena did not see his reaction; she
was too busy contemplating plans. When she looked up though, she
saw him cowering.

“Skrag, honey. Come here.” Her voice picked
up an instant exotic tone. Slowly, her helper came to her. She
cuddled him like a baby in her arms. “You did fine. I’m sorry I was
angry with you.” Katrena ran a finger down his face to his nose. It
was always good to keep Skrag loyal to her. He did find out
information that helped her greatly, this being so far the best
news yet.

“Then dwarc asked for her.”

“What?” Skrag dropped to the ground as
Katrena lost focus. The goblin quickly got to his feet.

“Yes. He ask. I lie.” Skrag puffed out his
chest and grinned at his mistress.

“Did he really? Well now, that just brings
everything home for me.” She looked down at the table and then out
at the crowd. Sunlight glinted off her silver eyes.

“Skrag, you did well. Eat your food. I’ll
look after the shop.” Her hand patted his head. A dreamy look came
over his face. The goblin simply nodded and watched her walk to the
shop’s entrance.

Katrena scanned the crowd in the aisle,
looking for Hambone. Of course, the dwarc had moved on, but that
was no concern. She knew where to find him, and maybe the girl
too.

This mission might have just gotten a little
easier.

***

“It’s all my fault.” Dante crumbled into a
miserable state. They’d walked through the whole market but
discovered no further sign or clue to finding Kara.

“That goblin knows something. If only he
wasn’t Katrena’s pet slave, I could find a way to make him talk.”
Hambone’s orc tendencies toward violence were coming out. When his
temper flared up, trees ended up broken.

Grace twittered something and flew in
Hambone’s face. “Grace is right. Someone else had to have seen
Kara.” Dante padded along the road leading away from the market.
Hambone followed. He needed to clear his head. Maybe something
would occur to him.

The dwarc kept looking back towards the
market, struggling with the idea of going back and pummeling the
puny goblin. Grace kept by the dwarc, giving off a soothing aura of
soft green.

The sounds of the market faded, rounding a
bend in the road. Dante skulked over to a nearby bench,
transformed, and then sat down. Hambone soon joined him.

“When did this day turn complicated?” Dante
asked looked at the ground. He picked up a stone from the ground
absentmindedly.

“Probably when I stumbled across Kara
yesterday.” Hambone said. He also picked up a rock from the ground.
Grace just hovered.

“She was nice.” Dante rolled the object about
in his hands, and then threw it across the path.

“She liked my soup.” Hambone threw his stone
as well.

“Well, that’s human taste for you.” Dante
laughed a bit. He scooped up another stone.

“But you do have to admit, I make a good
Fedashala.” Hambone too, picked another rock. Dante nodded. Another
rock flew across the path. Hambone followed with his. In a slow
rhythm, both continued to throw rocks. No one spoke. Grace just
watched the two.

Dante turned and looked at Hambone. “Do you
forgive me?”

Hambone turned and looked surprised. “For
what?”

“Losing Kara.”

“It could have happened to anyone.”

“But it happened to me.” Dante looked
away.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Hambone patted
his friend on the back almost knocking him from the seat. “Plus, it
is hard to resist those nymphs and their treatment.”

“You aren’t kidding me. The shampooing was
paradise.” Dante gave a guttural growl of excitement, which caused
Hambone to laugh. The laugh became infectious and soon Dante
laughed as well.

Grace chirped and twittered, but neither
heard her.

Frustrated, Grace let out one sharp chirp
that caused both werefox and dwarc to wince. “Why’d you do that?”
Dante wiggled a finger in one ear. Grace sprite-spoke rapidly.

“Glove? What glove?” Hambone asked.

“Do you mean this one?” Dante held up the one
they had found by the jewelry booth. Grace chirped again, flew down
by the side of the bench, and tweeted once.

Both Hambone and Dante looked at the ground
to the right of Hambone’s feet. The werefox was on his feet first
and snatched up the glove. He held it up and compared it to the one
Hambone held. A matching pair.

“Kara’s been here!” they exclaimed
simultaneously. Quickly, they began to look around. Grace watched
them fret about, while she stayed in her original spot. After a few
minutes of looking, both returned to the bench. Grace chirped.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks Grace. We know she’s not
hiding around here. Now, let’s think what does this mean?” Dante
waved off the sprite. He stared down at the gloves.

Grace was not going to be put off. She flew
in Dante’s face, startling him.

“What are you doing? Get out of my face.”
Dante waved her away.

She dropped a pink and blue ribbon on top of
the gloves.

“Isn’t that your sister’s?” Hambone asked
pointing at the ribbon.

Dante looked down at the colored fabric. “It
looks like Snowball’s.”

Grace went into a furious twitter of sprite
speech that elevated at times and in which her aura flashed colors.
Hambone and Dante stared stunned.

Dante tried to interrupt. “I’m sorry. I know
she doesn’t like…” he said. “I know we should have….”

When the sprite finished, she looked
exhausted. Hambone and Dante waited a moment, making sure she was
done.

“We’re sorry for acting without listening. I
think we just got excited about the glove clue and didn’t even
notice the ribbon was there.” Hambone said, hoping never to hear
Grace that angry again.

“So you figure Snowbell found her?” Hambone
asked Grace. He got an approving chirp from her.

Dante looked again at the glove and the
ribbon. “And my tricky sister left this clue for us because we
would probably stop here?”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Hambone
asked. “Let’s go find them.”

Chapter Eight

Sweat beaded on Jesset’s brow as the grinding
stone spun beneath him. He could feel its power sharpening the edge
of the sword. The rhythmic mediation set his mind at ease. His mind
still filled with emotion, both worry and anger, the latter being
prevalent. Those were not good emotions for a Mordock. Rash magical
behaviors tended to draw unwanted eyes.

The fires sparked high in the brazier and the
heat would be unbearable to most. Jesset was used to the dragon’s
breath though; in fact, he relished in it. The firelight danced off
the blade. He flipped the sword and stared at the clean edge,
studying all the minute details. A drip of sweat fell from his nose
and hit the smooth metal. The blade was good.

Jesset went to work on the other edge,
starting up the foot pedal for the grinding wheel; starting his
mantra for the next mediation.
Stzzz…stzzz…stzzz…

His niece Kara, whom he had only seen a few
times from a distance for the last nine years, had jumped into the
Kilarne yesterday. Sources told him she did not drown, but she was
in the Territories. Hopefully, his sources could provide some
protection for her.

For almost hundred years, the land had feared
magic. Anything magic or even the hint of it was strangled.
Longshanks and then his son La’ard had seen to fostering this fear.
Longshanks had been determined to purge the villages of any hint of
alchemy He offered reward money to people who turned in others,
which only made the peasants suspicious and nervous of each other.
The king’s soldiers, renamed the Witch Guard, could show up at a
person’s door if accused by another of being a witch. Accused
witches and warlocks, often burned at the stake or drowned,
provided a public warning. Even the young were not sparred. One
scorned girl denounced a boy of seven as a wizard. Nobles cried out
for his head.

When Jesset was born to a simple blacksmith,
all rejoiced at first. This was their second male child; Kirt was
their first. But as both grew, certain qualities about Jesset
manifested themselves. Like when he was five, a rabid dog rampaged
loose in the village. Jesset was out playing by the cattle passage
when this wild beast spotted him. Anger seeped from its mouth as
white foam. The dog charged the small boy. His mother, hanging
clothes at the time, tripped while running to save her son.

“Doggie.” Was all Jesset spoke. Instantly,
the dog stopped, cocked its head, and sat down. The boy got to his
feet and went to pet the dog.

“No! Get away from that dog! It’s sick!” his
mother screamed, struggling to get up. Jesset was already at the
dog and patted it once on the head.

“He’s all better, Mama.” And sure enough, the
dog had been cured. It lived another five years, a guardian to
Jesset. He named it Carl. When asked why he named it that, Jesset
replied because that’s what he told me his name was.

But the other people in the village cast
suspicious looks toward the family. Rumors of magic began to
spread. His mama didn’t care if her boy had magic. She just made
sure no one took away. His family hid him away from view until
things calmed down. It wasn’t until another family in a nearby
town, imprisoned for magic, caused someone to remember Jesset and
the rumors began again. Jesset was then ten.

Stzzz…Stzzz…Stzzz.
He remembered Carl
all right. He sure missed that dog.

He laid the sword to the side. Blacksmithing
demanded hard work, but he would not trade his job for anything. It
set his mind at ease, and his spirit calmed at the touch of metal.
He’d learned the trade from his father, slowly but steadily. He
still practiced blacksmithing even after the Mordocks took him
away.

Memories of his childhood overwhelmed Jesset.
When the rumors started up again about the family, his whole
household became tense. Jesset’s father feared for his younger son.
Through contacts in the market, he learned of an outlaw group
called Mordocks. They were a roving band of people, who lived just
beyond the reach of the king and his guard. Often times they would
‘adopt’ children with special abilities, a way to help the accused
avoid royal measures.

Such a group was passing through town, when
word reached Jesset’s father that the Witch Guard were on their
way. His mother wrapped the boy in a blanket that evening, and took
the horse deep along a trail. Jesset only remembered clinging so
very tightly around his mother that he could hear her galloping
heart beating.

The horse slowed in a small encampment, where
he was uncovered and presented to the Taam, the leader of that
particular Mordock tribe. Tears told the story for Taam, and he
gladly accepted Jesset into the fold. The only stipulation: Jesset
was now a Mordock forever. He could not go back and rejoin his
family. He would be a member of the tribe. His mother reluctantly
agreed. Their parting still brought tears to his eyes. Only ten,
and permanently separated from his real family.

Seven years ago, he reunited with Kirt. A
chance encounter at a tavern brought the brothers together.
Overjoyed, Kirt wanted Jesset to meet his family, but the fear of
magic lingered in the land still. He felt uneasy to meet his niece
and sister-in-law and bring the eye of the Witch Guard upon
them.

But somehow, Kirt became the spotlight.

His eyes traveled to a small chest tucked
away in the corner. Locked away in that chest was a shard of mirror
Kirt had given him several days ago. Was this the reason the Witch
Guard took Kirt away?

He shook off his apprehension and sweat,
stood up and stretched. His clothes felt drenched. How long had he
been working at that sword? An hour? Two? Never mind—the duke who
received it would admire it greatly.

Ruff, Ruff, Ruff…

“I know, I know. You need to be fed.” He
smiled down at his niece’s dog. He was glad the small dog had found
him after Kara was swept downriver. The dog had followed the river
until Kara drifted out of sight. Birch hated even a bath, so Jesset
knew there was no way he was going to swim after her. The dog told
Jesset how he backtracked and caught an intriguing but somewhat
familiar smell. Which led him to Jesset.